This was probably not how Tyler Hamilton envisioned his retirement from cycling. Five years ago he was touted as a favorite for the Tour de France, featured on the cover of this magazine and regarded as the next great one. It all unraveled in a doping scandal, ending finally in a conference call to announce he'd tested positive once more and would never race again.

Hamilton acknowledged taking an herbal supplement that he knew contained the banned hormone DHEA, but said he did it to combat depression, not for any performance advantage. "At the time, I decided my mental health was more important than anything," he said. "I was wrong to take it."

"Behind closed doors it's always been a fight for me," Hamilton said of his struggle with depression. "It's almost like I have to put on a suit every day when I go outside and in a way act a little different. In the public's eye I think it's been a little bizarre."

He got that one right.

When he tested positive for blood doping in 2004, Hamilton's counterattack consisted primarily of pointing out that, as a bonafide Good Guy, he could never have done such a thing. The Believe Tyler campaign was an instant sensation, polarizing people along neatly divided lines of hardened cynics versus those who felt in their gut that Tyler could never dope. Either you believed Hamilton and his eponymous foundation offered the word more as a directive than an appeal or you did not.

The Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS), a kind of Supreme Court for sports disputes, didn't believe. Its final 3-to-0 ruling verdict relied on a 34-page opinion that atomized every defense he put forward including the idea that a possible reason for a mixed-blood-cell population was the presence of an unborn twin and banned him from competition for two years.

Hamilton returned from his suspension with the upstart Tinkoff Credit Systems, but when documents purportedly surfaced in spring 2007 that linked him to the Operacion Puerto doping ring, he was suspended. By the end of the year, he'd signed with the small American team Rock Racing, noted for the bad-boy persona cultivated by its owner, fashion mogul Michael Ball. It was a long way from Believe Tyler.

At his retirement announcement, Hamilton maintained that he did not blood dope. "I'm admitting guilt that I took a prohibited substance on February 7 and 8, 2009," he said in response to a question about his 2004 case. "I've already spoken about the past, and today is about talking about what I took in February, and depression, and telling the world I'm retiring and focusing on moving forward on my mental health." This time around, there was no mention of any foundation or larger campaign focused on depression.

Instead, Hamilton gave every indication that he is locked in the fight of his life. He spoke of feeling troubled as a child, of having difficulty concentrating and sleeping. He says he was diagnosed only in the fall of 2003, but noted, "I've had this a long time. Obviously, I've had issues since I was diagnosed, but this is something I've suffered from more than I believed, and I'm going to handle it head-on now."

Pro cycling and depression have an uneasily close relationship. Marco Pantani suffered from it, as did Jose Maria Jimenez and Thierry Claveyrolat. Former world-hour-record-holder Graeme Obree's battle with depression included an unsuccessful suicide attempt. Just days before Hamilton's announcement, track cyclist Jobie Dajka was found dead in his home, of what his father said was a broken heart. "I'm sure there are more athletes out there that suffer from it," Hamilton said in an April 28 interview with Bicycling "Since that press conference, I can't tell you how many fans, coworkers, cyclists have told me they suffer from depression."

Hamilton still faces a possible lifetime ban from the sport, which would prevent him from working for a pro team. That's significant for a 38-year-old man who has known no other career, who has no college degree and whose reputation, on and off the bike, is ruined.

A storybook ending it's not. But by finishing his career this way, Hamilton provided consolation to his fans as well as his detractors. Those who condemned him in 2004, who will likely say his recent positive test confirms their earlier suspicions, can rest easy knowing he's finally gone from the peloton. Paradoxically, Hamilton's disclosure also validates the faith of his most loyal supporters: He's telling the truth now, so why wouldn't he have done the same before? And for the many race fans who remain undecided, his departure brings, well, relief. There will be no more comebacks, no more upset victories that force us to contemplate how we're supposed to feel about Tyler Hamilton. Under the circumstances, it may have been the most graceful exit anyone could have hoped for.

Tyler's Timeline
2003
JULY: Riding for CSC, wins Stage 16 of the Tour de France, in spite of a broken collarbone suffered during Stage 1.

SEPTEMBER: His team, Phonak, reveals that Hamilton's A samples from the Olympics and Stage 8 of the Vuelta a Espana showed evidence of blood doping. Two days later, the team announces that the Olympic B sample has been inadvertently frozen and is therefore negative. The Vuelta B sample is positive.

2005
APRIL: The American Arbitration Association suspends Hamilton for two years.